


Merlin One-Shots

by DollopheadedMerlin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, One-Shot, One-Shots, Oneshot, Other, one shots, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5340962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollopheadedMerlin/pseuds/DollopheadedMerlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A concoction of Merlin one-shots. Some are prompted, others are author's vomit. Some are cute, others are . . . bizarre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Polish

Merlin heaved a sigh as he plumped himself down in a chair and reached out for his tools. Arthur had him polishing his armor and sharpening his sword and he needed it done by morning. The sun had already set and he was tired as death but he knew that if he went to sleep he would never get the work done in time. So, he reluctantly set to striking the stone against the king’s blade, head nodding towards sleep every few strokes. 

Not far into it, Gwaine wondered in to return a mace to its welling. 

“Arthur’s got you doing nightly chores again, has he?” he chuckled. 

Merlin jumped slightly, having been too sleepy to realize the knight was even there at first. “Yeah,” he sighed. 

“God, Merlin,” Gwaine mused as he sat next to the boy, “you look awful!”

“Thanks,” Merlin huffed, a tired smile on his face. 

“Have you really not gotten any sleep at all?” Gwaine asked, though he still spoke with a jesting tone. 

“I haven’t slept at all in three days,” Merlin told him, somewhat oblivious to the knight’s joking manner. “All this week I’ve been too caught up doing things for Arthur. Every time I think I’m finished, I look up to see the sun has risen and it’s already time to start it all over again!” Merlin was striking the sword a bit harder now, obvious frustration strengthening his blow. 

“Seriously?” Gwaine spat. “Hell, I don’t know how you do it Merlin! I think I would have keeled over by now if he had  _me_ up all that time!”

Merlin scoffed. 

“Say, what else has he got you doing?”

The boy groaned. “I have to polish all of his armor and mend his chain mail.”

“Well,” Gwaine replied, “I don’t know much about mending but I think I could pull the polishing off quite nicely! After all, if I recall, he  _did_ have us polish the army’s boots once!”

“What?” Merlin asked, surprised. “No, Gwaine you don’t have to stay up with me. Besides, what’s the use of us  _both_ being too tired to walk in the morning?”

“Merlin,” Gwaine protested, picking the armor up off the ground, “in this state,  _you_ won’t even be able to  _wake up_ in the morning. With my  _expert_ help, we’ll finish in time for you to get an hour or two of, dare I say,  _much_ needed sleep.” Gwaine jokingly bopped Merlin on the nose with the polishing rag and the boy reeled back with a smile. 

Merlin laughed and thanked Gwaine before they both fixed up Arthur’s armor to perfection. 


	2. Inspired by Humor

"I picked this flower for you ‘cause it matches your eyes."

Gwaine looked down at what Percival was holding. It was a dead, brown, wilted flower, all dried and crumbled. It was so far gone that the type of plant was completely unrecognizable. 

The knight looked up to see a smug, accomplished look on Percival’s face, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“Tell me,” Gwaine prompted, gesturing to the dried leaves before him, “how exactly  _this_ could possibly be compared to my  _gorgeous gaze!”_

“Only in the way that people cringe when they look at it,” Percival answered, looking quite content with his insults. 

“Oh,” Gwaine mused, “you’re quite the charmer!” 

“I know I am,” Percival agreed before taking Gwaine’s hand and forcing the floral corpse into his clutches.

Gwaine watched, slightly confused as the husky man turned and left to rejoin their training session.

 

A tap on his shoulder tore his attention away from removing his armor and, still in the process of removing his gloves, he turned to find Gwaine waiting before him. 

“Having trouble prying your gloves off those sausage fingers of yours?” Gwaine pestered. 

“Says the one who dropped his sword, what, four times today?” 

“Right,” Gwaine replied, tone less comical and more serious. 

Percival cocked his head to the side. Gwaine was acting strange. It was then that he noticed the man’s hands were behind his back.

The knight cleared his throat. “Look, you, uh, you gave me an idea.” He revealed his hands and held out his arms before the towering knight. He slowly opened his palms to reveal a cluster of blue forget-me-nots. “I, uh, picked these for you,” Gwaine said nervously. He gulped before recovering his sarcastic tone at the last minute and saying, “Ya know?  _Because they match your eyes!”_


	3. Ace Grace

"Oh my god, I didn't actually think I'd meet another ace person, let alone someone who'd be interested in dating me."  
Merlin shrunk into himself, blush reaching his ears. He shyly agreed with the ecstatic man before him, embarrassment taking over. What was he thinking? He’d just confessed his love and outed himself all in one go! He honestly just wanted to reel back and sink into the floor and cease to exist. He liked Lancelot, yes, but all of this excitement was too much for one person, so he thought. Sure, he regularly fought off magical threats to protect Arthur, but those fates were known to none but himself. The public attention was not something he was keen on experiencing.   
“So,” the young boy squeaked, “is that a … yes?”   
Lancelot clapped Merlin on the back. “Merlin,” he said, “We’ve known each other for a little while now and I am thrilled to hear this from you! And, if I’m honest, I was in the same position as you for a long time.”   
“How do you mean?”  
“Well, looking at you across the way and longing to kiss your pretty face, of course! But also being too afraid to say anything of it, in case you wanted more than that and I couldn’t …”  
“It’s alright,” Merlin assured, feeling far more confident now that he’d discovered their common desires.   
“You’re a brave man, Merlin,” Lancelot continued, “for more than just this reason. Arthur should see all the things you’ve done for him. I doubt he would have the guts to do what you just did!”  
“Oh!” Merlin blushed again. “Speaking of him, why don’t we not mention this to Arthur.”  
“Why not?”   
Merlin smiled. “Because I wanna see the little prat driven insane by all the looks we give each other! He’s too much of a fool to figure something like this out on his own! I wanna see him fester over it!”  
Lancelot laughed and kissed him on the cheek.


	4. Senses

Arthur knew the odds of seeing Merlin again after centuries had passed was small, but he still hoped that, the next time he saw Merlin's goofy smile, he would be true to his heart and take what was always his. These were his only thoughts as he saw the light of day slowly coming to meet him at the water’s surface. His mind was bare of any knowledge pertaining to the last couple  _hundred_ years, but he still somehow had a sense of how much time had passed. All he could see was a white essence while he waited. But it wasn’t bright or blinding. It was simply there, enveloping him in a comforting feeling. And now he was leaving that sanctuary, his body utterly restored. He felt more relaxed then he’d ever been.

The cool feeling of a breeze brushing up against his wet skin was astounding to him, having been exposed to the numb for so long. As his head emerged from the water, he took in a deep, starving breath and relinquished the cold sting of it in his throat and on his gums. 

He blinked the water from his eyes and the shoreline before him simply looked welcoming. He trudged through the water. Any other man would have been deterred by the water’s resistance, but Arthur smiled at it. The feeling of the liquid rolling past his legs was exhilarating. He never knew how much someone could miss simple things such as this, the temperatures, the movement. It seemed to him that movement didn’t exist where he had been, tucked away. 

When he finally reached the shore he collapsed onto the grassy ground, feeling the weight of his chainmail bring him down. He hit the ground with a thump that caused his head to throb for a moment. But he did not wince or grimace, he merely laughed at the long unfelt sensation. 

He rolled onto his side and felt the grass stick to his cheeks as his wet skin brushed up against the ground. Then he lay flat on his back, staring blearily up at the vast blue sky. 

For a while he just sat there, breathing, feeling the slow up and down motion of his chest that he had not performed in years. He rolled his joints and did nothing but smile at the way he ached from not using them. After a long day of basking in his senses, the sun rolled higher into the sky and he fell asleep to the warmth that bathed him. 

When he next opened his eyes, it was not to a sight that he would have expected. After all these years, he would have thought the idiot would have had the sense to move on and stop grieving over him like a _girl_  who’d lost her lover!

But there he was, standing over him, eyes curiously wide. It took Arthur a moment to realize he wasn’t dreaming, to make sure of himself that the image before him was not of his own mind’s illusion, bug blue eyes gleaming and ears prodding out a bit more than they ought to. 

He wasn’t dreaming. He was there and he was real and he had found him! 

“Arthur?” Merlin questioned in a voice that sounded far too young and far too innocent for his age and his bearings.

Arthur couldn’t think of the words to say. All he could do was smile as a throaty laugh leapt from his mouth. And, though he didn’t think it possible, Merlin’s eyes grew even wider and they shone with the joy that Arthur so dearly missed. And his goofy, lopsided smile reclaimed its residence on his face. 

Then Merlin did the last thing he would have expected him to, especially after leaving him behind for so long, all alone. As he laughed and laughed and laughed, Merlin brought Arthur into a sitting position and his smile came to a close.

And he kissed him. 


	5. Sufferings

I looked at him and whispered, "Arthur I  . . ." as I felt tears stream down my face.

“You what?” he spat back at me. It was obvious that he was trying not to lash out. It seemed like every bit of him was shaking, fighting the urge to strangle me right then and there. I flinched. I didn’t want it to be like this. 

“I wanted to tell you but - I didn’t - I couldn’t - every time I thought I could something would happen!” I let out another sob and put my face in my hands, unable to bear another moment of his hateful gaze. 

“And you’ve been trying to tell me for how long?” he shouted down at me. “How long have you had magic? How long have been  _lying_ to me?” 

I tried to answer but I couldn’t seem to find the words. Any explanation that I had seemed to leave me as if they flowed out mingled with my tears. 

“ _How long?”_ he all but screamed, his voice deathly and terrifying. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to be afraid of him. This was Arthur. And even as he stood towering over my crumpled form on the floor, I couldn’t fear him or hate him back. He was all I had.

“All my life!” I cried, wanting, yearning to give him what he wanted. I looked up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes. “I was born with magic, Arthur! I had no choice in it!” He said nothing back to me. He looked confused, but he was still enraged. I stood then. I stood and I faced him, despite the sorrow that weighted down my heart. “You think I would have  _chosen_ this? Why would I want this; to be persecuted and hated for all that I am? I got that enough from just being the only  _bastard child_ in Ealdor! Do you really think that I would betray you, Arthur?”

Arthur just stared at me, blank-faced, but eyes beaming with emotion; hurt, anger, sorrow, maybe even a touch of empathy. I saw that and latched onto it with as much hope as I could muster. 

“No,” Arthur muttered. “No, I don’t believe you. How? How could you have possibly been hidden for so long? The Merlin I met all those years ago c—“

“Is the same man standing before you now!” I wept. “I came to Camelot so that Gaius could help me with my magic! That’s why I am here! I could barely stand living! With so much hate being spat at me from all directions, my mother feared for my life! I wanted so much to be  _dead_ before I came to Camelot; wanting to just leave everything behind and finally be numb to all my suffering rather than stand a moment longer! But then I met you and I saw greatness in you! I saw a man who could see past the evil deeds of others and realize magic for what it truly is; a tool! A weapon that can be wielded for better or for worse, no different from and axe or your sword!” I took a deep shuttering breath to try and calm myself. It didn’t work. Everything was too overwhelming. “You are the only thing I live for Arthur! I found a use for my magic; the only bloody thing I seem to be good at! I protect you, Arthur! I’ve always been protecting you, since the day we met! It is my  _destiny_ and I will never  _stop_ protecting you as long as there is air in my lungs! Even if you are the one to purge me of my breath I will stand by your side until the very last  _second!_ Because you are all that I have Arthur! I can’t-”

But I was stopped. Arthur had lunged forward and, for a moment, I held my breath, thinking all that I had hoped for was going to come crumbling down around me in one violent act, enacted by the very person I cared for most in the world. But it didn’t. And when I opened my eyes, I found Arthur’s arms enveloped around me, his own low sobs humming in my ear. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but, as I took a long, quivering breath, I broke down with relief and grasped onto him like he was the only thing holding me down. And I cried into him and he returned the gesture. I don’t think either of us was sure if things were truly okay, how things would turn out in the morning. But we didn’t care. We simply held on and let all of our regrets and our hate and our sorrow and our secrets out with the rush of our tears. And we stayed there all through the night, holding each other; both of us vulnerable, but safe. Slowly we drifted away, unaware of all other things around us. And we slept soundly with reconcile fresh in our hearts; to be awoken only by the hopeful, grey sky of morning. 


	6. Queens

It had been a long time since they last saw each other. As soon as the news of Morgana's abduction reached Gwen, she knew she had to see her, but, with Arthur hovering over her like a mother bird, she could barely even get a good look at her. She wasn’t allowed in her room for a while whilst Gaius had tended to her; Uther’s orders of course. She paced outside anxiously, longing to see that she was alright.   
When Gaius finally exited the room, her heart fluttered with an array of battling emotions, longing and yet hesitant to know how bad off she was.   
“How is she?” she asked, wringing out her skirt to bust her nerves.   
“She has suffered minimal injures, Gwen,” Gaius assured. “She’s entirely fine, I assure you.”  
Gwen’s relief could not be stifled as she let out a heavy sigh. “That’s great news, Gaius.”   
“Arthur is on his way,” the physician noted, “but it will be a few minutes before he gets here. If you wish to speak to her . . .”   
“Yes, of course,” Gwen said a bit too quickly as she lifted her skirt and headed for the door. “Thank you, Gaius.”   
Gaius smiled warily, remembering the evils Morgana had dabbled in before, but left without any further speculation.   
Gwen’s pace slowed as she passed through the threshold, seeing the silhouette of her master’s form sitting on the bed through one of the curtains. As she quietly made her way into the room, she peered around the veil, revealing Morgana’s eyes; an unusual look in them as they gazed out the far window.   
“My lady?” Gwen questioned as she wondered closer.   
Morgana was startled from her musings and her head spun to meet her maidservant. “Gwen!” She cried softly.   
“I wanted to make sure you were alright,” Gwen said as she hurriedly sat in a seat beside the bed.   
“I’m fine, Gwen,” she assure as she swung her legs to Gwen’s side of the bed so that she sat facing her. “How have you been?”   
“Me?” Gwen questioned. “I’ve been here worrying about you,” she sighed with a smile.  
“I’m sure you could have occupied yourself somehow,” Morgana insisted, belittling herself for the sake of her friend.   
Gwen chuckled. “Unless serving the king qualifies as occupying,” Gwen chuckled. “He is a strict man; always running me about the castle. I didn’t mind though. It’s my job.”   
Morgana’s heart sunk. The thought of Gwen at the hands of Uther made her sick. The cruel man who betrayed her father and her kind, ordering a girl so sweet as Gwen.   
The girl in question seemed to notice her discomfort and said, “Is everything alright?”   
“What? Oh, yes, Gwen!” She assured, holding out her arms. “I’m just so glad to see you. How I’ve missed you so.” She surprised the serving girl as she was enveloped in a hug.   
Despite the informality of the situation, Gwen felt compelled to hug her back. So, she did.   
Morgana’s words echoed back to herself in her ear. All day she’d been telling people how much she had missed them, but they had all been feigned. But this time, this time she felt as if the words were true, her heart stirring, beating in rhythm with Gwen’s as she held her close. They stayed like that for a long while, not even noticing the way the time passed.   
However, finally, they pulled apart when there was a knock at the door and Arthur’s voice boomed through, asking for entry.   
“Come in,” Morgana called, still holding Gwen’s hands in her own. She looked into her eyes as she waited for the prince to enter and found herself lost in them. They were so caring and so genuine that she found it hard to look away.   
“I will,” Gwen said, standing up, gently taking her hand from her grasp, “fetch you something to eat.”   
“Thank you, Gwen,” she said, sincerely.   
She looked after her as she turned to go, relishing in the way they seemed to care for each other. Her caring was not like Arthur’s or Uther’s, and certainly not like Merlin’s broken attempts to help her. They were all pretending. If they knew who she was, they would soon turn on her, like Merlin had. But Gwen . . . Morgana had seen Gwen stand up for those who had magic, seen her care for them. The heavy weight in her heart seemed to lighten a fraction at the thought. Perhaps Gwen would accept her.   
And as she got one last look at Gwen, just before her spiraling curls disappeared behind the door, she thought that, just maybe, there was someone in Camelot who cared about her. She promised herself then, that not a hair on her head would be touched when she brought her wrath down upon Camelot. Maybe, she might even fancy ruling beside her . . .


	7. Blue Stained Glass

If the eyes are the window to the soul, then of course Arthur and Merlin's were the same color.It only made sense, now that looked at them with this knowledge. The dragon had always said that Arthur and Merlin were two sides of the same coin, but this speculation was taking it a step further. 

After the last magical incident that put Camelot in great peril, Gaius had had to do some reading. There seemed to be a being possessing innocent men and women to do their bidding. It was almost impossible to catch unless you looked directly into the person’s eyes. Whenever someone was possessed their irises would bleed into their pupils, causing the black dots of normality to disappear, leaving the victim’s eyes entirely one color, whether it be green, blue, brown, or the like. 

So, naturally, in order to find the means of which Merlin was to bring about this creature’s downfall, Gaius had to do some research on eyes and their magical properties. 

Gaius had known eyes to be the weak spot of many possessive or controlling demons before, but, what he didn’t know was the reason for this was because the eyes were the windows to the soul. 

The fact had startled the old man, wondering what on earth it meant. It did explain, however, why someone possessed would have a change in eyes, their soul being twisted or manipulated in some way. 

The creature was vanquished without incident (well, besides Merlin being possessed and nearly smiting everyone with his magic, leaving the final rescue up to the old man himself) and things settled back to normal. 

But the words from those ancient texts still curiously toyed with Gaius mind and he made a better habit of keeping eye contact with anyone who made him wonder. And who made him wonder more than Merlin? 

So, the next time the old physician saw the two destined lads side by side, he looked into their eyes and was left astonished by what he saw. 

He’d always known that Merlin and Arthur had had the same color eyes, of course, but this was different. It were as if their eyes were identical, down to the way they moved, the way they gleamed, the way the colors swam within them . . . It was mind boggling. And when the two young men left him, utterly clueless about his discovery, Gaius gaped after them, his own eyes wide. 

He’d known the two boys were close, closer than any two people he’d seen before. But now, as he saw what lied beneath, it could not be denied. 

Merlin and Arthur shared the same soul and were destined to be by each other’s side. It was no wonder they were so hard to break apart. Without the other, they weren’t whole. 


	8. Sweet Porridge

They arrived to the call of a fretful peasant girl with tattered clothes and a mess of hair. However, her belly was large and her tear streaked cheeks were quite plump. Merlin thought it curious that a girl who claimed to be so poor would have such a cumbersome body. 

Those questions were answered, however, when they arrived at her village.

The entire town was buried. Not one house could be seen through the mass that consumed it. But it was neither mudslide nor avalanche that stole the village from view. No, it was porridge – lots and lots and  _lots_ of porridge.

Arthur, Merlin, and the knights looked on with mouths agape at the sight before them. How so much sweet broth could have accumulated in one place was beyond them. Even Merlin, with his understanding of magic, could not fathom what might have caused this. 

The girl, however, was babbling and sputtering through her tears an explanation. 

“What happened?” Merlin asked. 

After taking a much needed moment to compose herself, she swallowed her tears and said, “I was gifted a cooking pot by a kind witch. She enchanted it to obey a mortal’s tongue. So, whenever I said, ‘cook, little pot, cook’ it would produce such sweet porridge that neither me nor my village would ever go hungry. When I was away . . . someone must have tried to use it. They must have forgotten how to make it stop. They did not know the words and . . . when I finally bid that the pot stop the porridge, it was too late.”

She then collapsed into a mess of tears and porridge. Merlin had never heard of such childish magic before, being commanded by silly rhymes as it was. But he knew that that pot would have to be destroyed to avoid another disaster. 

Unfortunately, it would seem that they would have to eat their way through to it.


	9. Tom Thumb

**Tom Thumb**

He is his closest adviser, they say. All of the land knows of the myth that centers about the king and the wise man who speaks to him. 

They say he lives by his ear, whispering secrets and truths to him, commenting on the world around him as a hidden onlooker. 

Many have tried to spot him but they say that he is so small that he cannot be noticed unless one is face to face with the great king; and no one but his most trusted friends are granted to stand so near. 

Some say his name is Merlin. Others say it is Emrys. Another may call him Myrddin or Ambrosius or Wyllt. But most call him Tom Thumb. They all know that it is not his true name, but they call him so anyway. It is his name in the telltales and fairy stories that the children love. It is an easy name to remember and was his known title around the world, perfectly describing him for he is, as they say, tall as a thumb. 

He sits upon the king’s shoulder and tells him things; great things and small things. Thing he sees and things he scrys. He leaves his perch sometimes, they say, and aids the monarch in quests by tricking the towering thieves and assassins by throwing his voice about and watching them scramble. 

But he always returns to his king and his perch upon his shoulder. He is always there and the king is always listening. Such a small voice can hold such big words.


	10. The Duration of Life

When the world was first made, there was a controversy of years. The deities were duty bound to assign the lifespan of each creature they created. Most creatures were content with what years they were given. However, others bid the gods change their fate.   
Such creatures as cats and hounds and mule and butterflies would come before the gods upon their creation and ask that their life be shortened.   
The cat was once meant to live a whole one hundred thirty five years, but it found that time was not kind to it. The cat grew frail and fragile and could not leap and pound like it once could. Therefore, it went before the gods and requested that its life be shortened. Thus, its years dwindled down from one hundred thirty five to fifteen.   
The hound had similar concerns and begged that the deities shorten its existence. It discovered that, with age, it lost its teeth and lost its voice and lost its glee. So, it pleaded that the gods would relieve it of a few years. And so they did. From what was once a long fifty years became a short ten as well.  
The mule was made to live to be one hundred, but the poor beast explained to the gods that its back was sore and its hooves were worn by the end of its time, causing it great pain. With this provided, the mule asked that the deities remove its later years to lessen its burden. Its wish was granted and it lived only twenty.  
The butterfly was beautiful and felt that its wondrous display was its reason for being. However, over time its wings became crippled and its colors became grey. So, it came before the gods and bid that they rid the earth of such hideous years and let it remain pretty until its time was at an end. It was done. No longer would the butterfly live a thousand years. Instead, it would only live one.  
Now the gods had much time on their hands for these were not the only beasts that wanted shorter lives. There were years and years of life that had no body to thrive in. A life had to have a body and the only creature that ever wished for more years was the greedy humans. But the gods did not wish to please them in this way, for they would reign over the land for far too long if they had such time to thrive and poison the earth. So, they saved it. They kept it hidden away until a human would be born and be worthy of life. They would have to be pure and just and fair and kind.   
Many, many lifetimes passed before the boy was born. The gods saw the goodness in his heart and the brightness of his soul and bestowed these years upon him for he would need them. One day, this man would be separated from his most treasured companion, whom would too be saved by the gods when they needed him again. But, they reasoned that they would need someone to teach the Once and Future King when he was returned. So, they gave the years to Merlin. That way, when the king returned, as was prophecy, he would be there to pass on the knowledge of all those years he was gifted and aid his friend in their conjoined destiny.


End file.
